Keywords

Introduction

The Key Role of Donor Recognition

Philanthropy comes from the Greek word “philanthropia,” composed of “phil” (to love) and “anthropos” (the human). Philanthropy, in its etymology, can be understood as the “love of humanity.” More concretely, philanthropy is also a practice of voluntary giving. It has been defined as “the voluntary giving and receiving of time and money aimed (however imperfectly) towards the needs of charity and the interests of all in a better quality of life” (Van Til, 1990). If generosity has existed since the birth of mankind, modern philanthropy, i.e., institutionalized philanthropy in its contemporary form, was born in the USA after the Civil War (Zunz, 2012), increased a lot during the twentieth century, and became an important element of civil society not only in the USA but also in Europe (in particular from the 1980s).

If philanthropy has been thought to be an act of simple generosity, scholarship has shown the complexity of this act and of the meaning it can have. In particular, studies show that giving comes with strings attached: people expect something in return. The anthropologist Marcel Mauss already conceived philanthropy as an exchange between a gift and a counter-gift (Mauss 2007[1925]). Modern philanthropy relies on a similar process, as a person making a donation receives benefits for it, mostly financial (tax deductions) or symbolic (recognition). In this sense, donor recognition is an important part of philanthropy.

The Traces of Philanthropy: Donor Plaques

Donor recognition comes in many forms. Indeed, there are different ways for recipient institutions to express their gratitude to donors, through public or private acknowledgments—from speeches to letters or press releases. But donor recognition can also be expressed through donor plaques—on walls, signs, or objects/buildings. Three forms in particular can be seen at institutions: a “donor wall,” which is a collective plaque with all the names of donors of an institution (as you can see in most American museums); a “donor sign,” which is a plaque under the work of art that was given or financed or on a part of the project that was funded (e.g., “this painting was given by Mr. X” or “this chapel was restored thanks to the generosity of Mrs. Z”); or a “naming plaque,” which is the naming of a material object or a building (a bench, a statue, a theater, etc.), and it usually comes with a plaque as well, to mention the new name and the gift. If “naming” usually refers to this last practice (naming an object or building), it is important to underline that donor recognition is always done by mentioning the name of the donor—except for anonymous donors. Naming—in a broader sense, i.e., as all the traces of recognition that have the name of the donor on them—is an important part of modern philanthropic practices.

What is interesting here to us is that these practices of donor recognition that rely on donor plaques in their different forms are all “traces” of philanthropy. This means that these plaques are material evidence of generosity, i.e., what is concretely left behind once the gift is made, and it can stay for a long time, as we will see. Giving is not a one-time practice that fades into the unknown after the gift is made; it is a social and political practice that leaves a trace. This chapter aims at understanding the practices and meanings around these traces of philanthropy that are donor plaques.

An Understudied Topic

The questions of donor recognition and of naming are very present in the gray literature: a large number of philanthropy professionals have taken an interest in it and integrate it into their strategies. There are countless articles, posts, or reports on the importance of this practice and the best strategies.

However, donor recognition and donor plaques are not well researched by academics. On plaques more generally, there is an important body of literature in history, archeology, or semiotics, but almost nothing on donor plaques more specifically. The question of naming is also understudied, and, when it is studied, it is mainly by researchers in philanthropy studies or in law. Examples include John K. Eason’s article, “Private motive and perpetual conditions in charitable naming gifts: when good names go bad,” published in Eason (2005), by the UC Davis Law Review and William A. Drennan’s publication, “Where generosity and pride abide: charitable naming rights.”

The social sciences literature has done very little to address the issue. Some scholars mention it when discussing the motivations of donors, such as Francie Ostrower in her introduction to Why the Wealthy give:

Buildings, programs and even entire institutions are named for wealthy benefactors. The playbills of many performing arts organizations offer long lists of their donors. In Museums, placards next to works of art identify the men and women by whom they were donated. Hospital wings and endowed university chairs carry the names of large contributors.

A few rare French works also evoke it [“In the case of very large donations, this attention goes as far as giving the name of the donor to a room or dedicating a commemorative plaque to him” (Tobelem, 2010)]. Despite a few mentions, the practice of naming would benefit from being analyzed in depth, notably by using the tools of anthropology and sociology. Indeed, naming refers to the idea of filiation, of perpetuation, of identity—the question of naming carries a large number of issues (Martin de La Soudière, 2004).

An Important Phenomenon

Why is it important to study these traces of philanthropy that are donor plaques? First, because philanthropy is a growing phenomenon all around the world, and in particular in many European countries, where the welfare state is slowly losing its key role. In France, for example, philanthropy has grown a lot since the 1980s and in particular since the 2000s with the 2003 law on tax deduction for philanthropic giving and the 2008 law enabling the creation of endowments (“fonds de dotation”). This growing phenomenon goes along with the increase of donor plaques on buildings, monuments, and cultural institutions, all around the urban landscape, where it is now easy to spot a donor plaque.

It is also important because examining these traces of philanthropy gives us the opportunity to analyze a material object: a plaque, with an inscription on it. The study of philanthropy through its very concrete aspects (an object) is quite unusual. It is important to give particular attention to the object itself (what does it look like, where is it on the wall or on the object/building), but also to the inscription (what is written, how, etc.). These material traces of philanthropy also have a specific timeline, as they cannot last forever, like any other object (the plaque can be broken or suffer from the weather, etc.).

Last, focusing on donor plaques helps us get a better understanding of the symbolic aspects of philanthropy by looking at how generosity is transcribed concretely and visually. It is about examining not only the concrete aspect of the plaque but also the meaning behind this particular object and practice. Studies on philanthropy usually focus on the practice of giving itself, more than on the benefit that is given in return and on the meaning it conveys. Looking at “what remains” once the donation is made is also a way to ask broader questions, as we will see.

Traces of Philanthropy and Sociology of Elites

These traces of philanthropy as benefits that are donor plaques are mostly given to big donors. Small donors do not receive such recognition—with some exceptions. This is why we are developing this analysis within the sociology of elites. In particular, this practice of donor plaques and naming says a lot about elites’ relation to time and space.

First, donor plaques reveal a special relation to space: it is interesting to take into account where the plaque is placed, in which part of the institution, which part of the wall, how people walk by it, if the place is changed over time, etc. Second, they also relate to time and more precisely on the way elites project themselves into the future: it is key to examine the duration of the plaque, the evolution of the object over time, etc. Last, it also says a lot about the relation of private individuals to public institutions: how they negotiate to get what they want, how fundraising professionals accept or refuse their demands, and how the plaques are appropriated by the public by using the new names (or not).

In this sense, our work is quite original in three ways. It combines an analysis of the relation of elites to time but also space, which is quite unusual. It examines their relation to the future, while many studies on elites and time are about their relation to the past. It furthers our understanding of the relation between these elites and public institutions, as their names appear in public places.

Methodology

This work is based on two qualitative research, which are both at the crossroads between different disciplines (anthropology, sociology, political science).

  • The first research is part of my Ph.D. dissertation on elite transnational philanthropy, where I analyzed how French cultural institutions raised funds in the USA, through the example of American Friends groups of French cultural institutions (American Friends of the Louvre, American Friends of the Paris Opera and Ballet, etc.). American Friends groups are American organizations that allow American donors to make donations to foreign institutions while still receiving tax deductions. The study is based on a qualitative survey conducted during 3 years (2011–2014) in France (Paris) and in the USA (New York), using four main methods: ethnography (participatory observations), interviews, document and press analysis, and archives.

  • The second one is a new research project that I began in 2018 with Nicolas DuvouxFootnote 1 (University Paris VIII) on the donor plaques, to question the material traces of philanthropy. It was supposed to rely mostly on ethnography, interviews, and document and press analysis. This second research has unfortunately been paused due to the Covid pandemic, but we were able to do some exploratory interviews and some analysis of donor plaques’ pictures.

Donor Plaques in Philanthropic Giving: When Elite Donors Leave Something Behind

As donor recognition is an important part of philanthropy, donor plaques are growing on the walls, objects, and buildings of institutions receiving gifts from major donors. Donor plaques are particular objects that reveal elites’ relation to space and time.

Donor Plaques: A Particular Object

Donor plaques are a particular object that can take different forms. The appearance of the plaque is symbolic, i.e., it means something beyond its mere appearance: the size, the location, the material, and the color can have different meanings. To frame these forms, institutions usually have a “plaque policy” or a “naming policy” that describes the way these practices are undertaken. Plaques are also the evidence that showing the name of donors is important in the philanthropic world. Here are the key questions to ask when analyzing a donor plaque:

  • How?

    How is it? The size and dimensions of the plaque can vary depending on the space available on the wall or the object/building for the plaque and on the amount of the donation, but depends also on the number of names that have to be mentioned—that is, for example, for collective plaques, it can be quite big. The materials are also different: wood, stone, aluminum, plastic, etc. Last but not least: How is it inscribed (long message, short message, golden letters, small black letters, etc.)?

  • What?

    What does it say? What is written on it? It varies from one plaque to another. For collective plaques, it is usually a quick line of introduction (e.g., “the institution is grateful to its generous donors”) and the list of the names of the different donors, following the alphabetical order or the amount category. The messages on signs under a work of art are usually quite short (“This painting has been acquired thanks to the generous gift of Mr and Mrs. X.”). Those on objects/buildings can be a little longer. The analysis of the typeface and of the words that are used is key to understand the esthetic and symbolic aspect of the plaque.

  • Where?

    Where is it placed? Donor plaques, as we mentioned, can be on different places. First is the type of place in the institution: it can be a wall or a sign under a work of art or in a hall or corridor. Another interesting aspect is the specific place within the institution: Is it at the entrance, in the main hall, or in a specific room? A last question relies on the position of the plaque on the wall: high up, in the middle, in a corner, etc.

  • How long?

    How long do these plaques stay on the walls of recipient institutions? This is a key question to understand donor plaques. Do these plaques stay forever on the walls? What happens when the donor dies? For collective plaques, they can usually last a long time. For individual plaques, it depends on the gift and on the agreement that was passed between the parties. In particular, in the case of naming practices, the duration of the naming is part of the contract and depends on the amount of the gift.

  • Who?

    Who are the actors? There are usually different actors involved. First, of course, it is a relationship between a donor and an institution, usually the head of development or of fundraising, and sometimes the director of the institution. But there are also other actors involved like the craftsman who creates the plaque. For individual plaques, what is interesting is that donor plaques are a social contract between two parties (donor/recipient) and the plaque (and its form) is usually an object of negotiation, as we will see.

These particular objects that are donor plaques take different forms but are also revealing of a specific relation of elites to space and time.

Donor Plaques: A Relation to Space

Donor plaques as concrete objects reveal a specific relation that elites have to space. There is an important body of literature on this topic and on the way elites think about space.

Given the high residential concentration of elites and their increasing segregation (McCammack, 2014), studies of the most privileged groups are often anchored in an analysis of elites’ relation to space. This relation to space appears in different ways in the recent literature on elites. The search for control and enclosure of a space is one of the crucial mechanisms of their capacity to reproduce their advantage over time (Pinçon & Pinçon-Charlot, 2007). For these categories, but also for broader groups, which have in common that they constitute the most internationalized segments of a highly skilled workforce, it is the articulation of several spaces that constitutes a form of advantage (Andreotti et al., 2016).

This relation to space can also be analyzed through representations of self and others, of the drawing of social and symbolic boundaries that it induces. Thus, the new boundaries of distinction come with an important presence of elites in central and dynamic urban areas (Prieur & Savage, 2013) that were not the prerogative of the traditional bourgeoisies who had an exclusive relation to “highbrow” culture. The naturalization of poverty is also made possible by a specific relation to space (Cousin, 2017).

Finally, far from being (only) an object of analysis, space is very often constitutive of the definition of the perimeters of research on elites, in particular because certain cities concentrate wealth—the case of New York being of course exemplary in the USA (Sherman, 2017). Very often, the urban scale is still too large in relation to numerically small groups, and it is in places of work (Godechot, 2007) or education (Khan, 2011) that the samples of respondents are constituted.

Donor plaques obey the same logic and reveal the way elites define and manage their presence in space and choose their own space, separated from other social categories. Having a plaque on a wall at a public institution is a way for these elites to take up the space, to position themselves in a public space. Moreover, by staking claim to an important spot in an institution (like a hall or an entrance), donor plaques symbolically reveal their capacity to occupy a space in a particularly meaningful manner.

Donor Plaques: A Relation to Time

Donor plaques are also revealing of a specific relation of elites to time. Scholarship in sociology of elites has also addressed this issue of their relation to time.

Muriel Darmon (2015) has shown, in her work on socialization to preparatory classes, that the acquisition and mastery of a specific relation to time is a central dimension of these elite studies. From the top to the bottom of the social hierarchy, from the mastery of time—one’s own and others’—enjoyed by dominant groups to the temporal expectation and heteronomy suffered by the dominated, this dimension (time) is central to the analysis of relations between social groups (Darmon et al., 2019).

The question of elites’ relation to the past is present in several works. Scholarship on this matter insists on the importance of roots, of the inscription in the long term through a lineage as an element of distinction between elite groups. There is also some research on elites’ relation to the future, mentioning their strategies of heritagization, filiation, and inheritance (Pinçon & Pinçon-Charlot, 1996). One way for these elites to leave a more important trace than that left with their family (often understood in the broad sense) is to make a donation. The gift is an investment that allows the donor to leave, engraved in stone, a proof of his/her generosity and altruistic action.

However, the capacity for subjective projection and objective control of the future should be among the central elements of any analysis of social stratification. As the relation to the future can be inscribed in present material resources, focusing on objects—which must be understood in its material sense—offers an indication of the position of the donor in the internal stratification of elites (the more “luxurious” and well placed is the plaque, the higher the elite). Our approach, in this sense, articulates the objectivity and even the materiality of the trace with the subjectivity of an individual projection that is reflected in a choice, a negotiation, a realization, and an inscription on the plaque, as a benefit of a philanthropic donation. In this way, it is possible to look back, hypothetically and with an important analytical gain, on the social relations that can be revealed through the different traces of philanthropy.

Moreover, since philanthropic donations are subject to significant tax deductions, it is important to study the link between private wealth and public affairs. From this point of view, it seems important to consider this research on the material traces of philanthropy as the manifestation of a projection into the future, but also as a benefit being made possible with the help of the citizens (tax deduction being the citizens’ money). It relates to the economic frameworks of the transmission of wealth (Piketty, 2013) but also to the political and institutional frameworks where the preferences of the elites are privileged (Gilens and Page, 2014; Cagé, 2018).

In this relation to time, several elements have to be taken into account to analyze it: the dating of the plaque, the evolution in time of these material objects, the duration of the plaque (as we said, some objects and buildings may be named for a certain period of time), the strategy behind the timeframe, and how they project themselves into the future. These plaques can be seen as a privilege to leave something behind—not everyone does—but also something that is visible to many people, not just the family or the relatives, but all the people entering the institution and even beyond (if there are press articles about the gift). One key question is: what do these donors wish to leave behind (as well as the possible gap between their wish and the actual trace they leave)?

The Traces of Philanthropy: A Political Subject?

Donor plaques are a way for elites to leave a trace, revealing their relation to time and space, but they are also a reflection of the values that characterize a society or even a nation, as we can see with the difference between the USA and France regarding this practice.

Traces and Values: Who Deserves to Leave a Trace?

France and the USA do not have the same practices in terms of plaques and naming, which reflects different values. This difference is also linked to the history of philanthropy in both countries, as its development is more recent in France.

Many of my French interviewees who were living in the USA underlined the importance of this practice that is widespread in the USA and follows a certain number of rules (“In the United States, all of this (…) is very formalized”). A French diplomat emphasizes the central role of naming in American philanthropy:

Americans love that, they have rooms in their name, they even have benches in Central Park in their name, when you go to Central Park, you can buy a bench, you go to a theater, you can buy a seat, so basically it’s very important this recognition … all the amphitheaters in the universities, all the buildings are named after someone, who is a donor.

Many of the French people living in the USA who were interviewed insisted on this aspect: American donors pay great attention to these forms of recognition (“They are very specific about this (…) they want their name to be inscribed”).

In France, it is not a common practice, as several respondents explained to me (“Yes, putting up plaques for donors is not part of the republican tradition … it’s not our culture, we don’t have the same culture of visibility”; “It’s very American, not so common in France”). A French curator explained to me that naming exists in certain cases, when a “collection” is donated (such as the Salle Personnaz at the Musée d’Orsay, named after the donor, Antonin Personnaz), but what is new is naming for a “financial donation.”

Indeed, in France, traditionally, only the “grands hommes” (the great men) get to have their names on the walls or get to have a building/street named after them: great writers, painters, sculptors, politicians, doctors, researchers, etc. These are people who contributed to the “greatness of the Nation.” France even has a monument dedicated to these “great men” (the Panthéon, in Paris): the inscription on the front says “aux grands hommes, la patrie reconnaissante”—to these great men, from their grateful homeland. This particularity is revealing of the values that are supported—more about honor, patriotism, and greatness than about wealth.

Donors Leaving Traces: An Ongoing Debate

However, practices are evolving within institutions, and naming is becoming more and more common in France, but with different modalities than in the USA: this question remains an open debate.

Indeed, if putting a plaque with the names of donors is now usual in many French institutions, naming a room after a donor still raises problems, as the head of a cultural institution puts it:

There is naming on a wall, a general wall (…) you will see on the wall the name of lots and lots of donors … but on the other hand there is no Barbara or Albert something room … contrary to the American Museums/Ah yes, it's still a bit different … /Very!! But [such Museum] … (…) they are doing it …

As it is a sensitive issue, the naming of rooms is a practice adopted in a differentiated manner. It depends first on the field. Thus, while it may be delicate for a museum to name a gallery after a donor, performing arts institutions may do so more easily when it is a small room, which is not, as in the case of the museum, the main place where art is practiced (a salon, an auditorium, and not the performance hall). Indeed, we saw this for one of them:

[The American Friends received] a gift from the Beauregard Foundation to fund various operations, supplementing previous grants of $500,000. In appreciation of this gift and for having supporting [the institution] for many years (…), the [institution’s] salon is renamed the “Beauregard Salon.”

Another notable difference distinguishes large institutions with international outreach from smaller ones, where this issue is still being debated, primarily for ethical reasons:

• A: It’s true that (…) attributing the name of a donor or a Friend to a room has already been raised once or twice, while I’ve been here for a very short time (…). I think it’s something in any case that French museums refuse to do for the moment, but really for ethical reasons I would say, well deontology … curatorial …

• B: Well, larger French museums …

• C: The Louvre, are they doing it?

• B: Oh well … [meaning: oh well yes].

• A: Yes, they’ve been there, yes, and Orsay too …

The adoption of naming practices is thus differentiated within institutions, leaving them a certain amount of freedom as to how to implement this practice.

Finally, this question of naming is also debated in other European countries with American Friends associations, which are confronted with the same difficulties, as mentioned by the head of an English association (“Yes, actually in the UK we have the same reticence for names being bashed over … but now they come around because the government funds are getting cut down. It is easier with Foundations, but they don’t want to have the ‘Barclay’s Theater’ (she laughs)”). It seems that, as in France, setting up donor plaques is no longer a real problem, but the naming of rooms and buildings is more contested.

What is at stake here with the proliferation of donor plaques is not only the question of values but also the occupation of public spaces. Indeed, these plaques that represent private donations are present in public spaces. Allowing public spaces to be used for private reasons changes the meaning given to these places. Scholarship in the sociology of elites has shown how elites tend to reappropriate public spaces for themselves: donor plaques show concretely this idea. It makes us ask the question of the meaning that philanthropy can have when it conquers public spaces, by leaving new traces.

Negotiating the Visibility of the Trace

While donor plaques are increasingly present on the walls of institutions, the question of their visibility is key. Plaques can be more or less visible. Thus, this visibility is negotiated between the two parties.

It is the responsibility of the recipient institution to negotiate the type of recognition the donor will receive—specifically, the framework and form the donor plaque will take. Many times, as it was explained to me by interviewees, donors want big plaques so that their name and gift can be well seen by visitors. The heads of the institution have to be very clear about what they can and cannot accept. Some institutions have guidelines or a chart of ethics, drawing red lines to define what is possible or not, because it is known that the relationship between donors and recipients is an asymmetrical one (Ostrander & Schervish, 1990; Ostrander, 2007). The power struggle is even stronger when the amount of the donation is very high. It is difficult to refuse a big and beautiful donor plaque to someone who made a million-dollar gift. A lot relies on the social and diplomatic skills of the people in charge of negotiating at the institution.

The visibility is also staged and showed off. Often, when a plaque is being made, there is an “unveiling ceremony.” This is a ceremony to offer the plaque publicly, revealing the importance of its visibility. I attended one of these ceremonies at a prestigious Parisian cultural institution. It was for the restoration of one part of a monument. The fundraising team had raised 800,000 € (for a total budget of one million euros), thanks to the gifts of eight couples or individuals. There was a press release announcing the ceremony. At this ceremony, many important people were present—among them the president of the institution, the president of the board, a former minister (very well known), and the ambassador of the UK in France (because one of the donors was from the UK). There were speeches, they “unveiled” the plaque, and then there was a cocktail.

While most donors want a lot of visibility, certain donors do not want to have as much (or any) visibility. When John D. Rockefeller Jr. made his million-dollar donation in May 1924 to the Château of Versailles in France, it was expected that something like a plaque would be in the negotiation. When a plaque was offered, he actually refused at first. He even insisted that his name not be mentioned, preferring to highlight the generous gesture from the USA to France. Similarly, when the heads of Versailles offered to name one of the largest boulevards in the city of Versailles (Boulevard Saint-Antoine) after him, he preferred to choose a small street adjacent to the castle, which he felt would be “more relevant.” He also wished to be mentioned only as one donor among others when the collection of restorations was published. But when you visit Versailles, you can still see a plaque on a wall, which says:

Au lendemain de la guerre mondiale, un citoyen des Etats-Unis d’Amérique, John D. Rockefeller Jr. a contribué par ses magnifiques libéralités à restaurer le château et le parc de Versailles, le Palais de Trianon et leurs jardins, la Cathédrale de Reims, le Château de Fontainebleau. En inscrivant ici le nom de John D. Rockefeller, le gouvernement de la République a voulu lui témoigner la gratitude du people français. (1924–1936)Footnote 2

It is interesting to see that it is inscribed in golden letters and that it mentions all the other institutions, but also that it underlines the gratitude not of the institution but of the people of France, making it a national recognition.

Power Relations Around the Traces: Resisting Donor Plaques and Naming

Donor plaques and naming also reveal the power relations taking place in philanthropy. While these practices are increasing, some people are resisting in different ways, in particular by drawing red lines or adapting new practices.

Drawing Red Lines

As they are facing the proliferation of these traces in their institutions, the heads of these institutions try to resist a feeling of being invaded by these plaques.

In this sense, charts of ethics can play an important role. For example, the chart of ethics of the Louvre Museum mentions the question of naming and its limits in the section “practices for granting compensation and naming rooms”:

Some of the Louvre's rooms have time-honored names, which means that their names were fixed more than fifty years ago (e.g., Galerie d'Apollon, Salle du Manège, etc.). The Musée du Louvre will not rename a space in the museum after an individual donor in recognition of a particularly important gift. If a space does not have a historical name, the President-Director may propose to the Museum's Board of Directors that it be named after a donor in recognition of a particularly important gift. The naming of a room will be for a limited period of time, depending on the amount and nature of the donation, in accordance with the policy for granting compensation validated by the Board of Directors on October 10, 2003.

It is interesting to see that they mention their limits. Thus, naming and plaques become an adopted practice, but red lines are being drawn to resist the power that donors can exert with their gift.

Resistance can also be expressed by refusing to use a new name. I experienced this with one of my interviewees, who was an important person working in the arts in New York. This relates to a well-known example of naming. In July 2008, American billionaire David H. Koch donated $100 million over 10 years to renovate the building. The theater was then named the “David H. Koch Theater,” a name it would have to bear for at least 50 years (after which it can be renamed). As I expressed my surprise that this Lincoln Center building was named the David Koch Theater, my interviewee got angry:

Oh please, don’t call it that !!!! I’m gonna tell you the story. The building was called the New York State Theater, because it was the New York State and the government who worked in order to give the city the theater, it was built thanks to Rockefeller, and the State really helped. And [a friend] and I were so ashamed to see that liberal guys just erase all the work of the State and put his name. It’s really a shame !! Actually, we still call it the ‘New York State Theater’.

His reaction shows that even if the name changes, and there is a reappropriation of the monument by the donor, people can still resist by using the former name. Some interviewees in Paris also told us that naming was sometimes a failure as people do not use the new name—because they do not want to or they forget to.

Adapting Practices: A Political Act to Avoid Becoming “a Museum of Plaques”

Beyond drawing red lines, recipient institutions can also resist by adapting the practices. In France in particular, they adapt US practices in terms of donor plaques. One of the practices in the USA is for institutions to categorize donors on the plaque depending on the amount of the donation:

This is something that I have never seen done in France … in the US they list every year … the Museum of Modern Art for instance … every major institutions lists its contributors, by name, unless you wanna be anonymous. Most people don’t wanna be anonymous because somebody will go ask them: ‘why aren’t you on the list ?’, so they might as well show they’re on the list … and it’s divided: those people gave a million dollars, these people give 5000 and these people gave 500. And there is a lot … in smaller communities, not in NY, there’s people that expect that their friends will be giving at the same level if they can, if they have the same means, it’s very systemically organized in the US.

One of the non-cultural American Friends associations, which is linked to a hospital, has even thought about naming the hospital’s rooms according to the amount of donations. The manager’s speech appears particularly technical and calculated as to the value of each room:

So that’s why I am trying to make a list of 6 or 8 projects where we can put their names on … in the emergency room, in the pediatrics room … and we put a dollar figure, so maybe $1 million for the emergency room, and $.5 million dollars for the pediatric suite … and for the rooms, because you know the hospital is a private hospital, so on the 5th Floor, like here in NY in the Presbyterian Hospital on the 23rd … you have amenities, a terrace, a bar and the rooms are more … more elegant than the other rooms … So we have 120 rooms and some are nice than the others, so we could put a price on these rooms, maybe $100,000 for the biggest, and $50,000 for the others.

Faced with the demands of the Americans, who calculate the amount of their donations according to the compensation that will be offered, a certain number of French institutions refuse to engage in this kind of practice and prefer to offer a common plaque, where the differentiation is not as rationalized and calculated. The idea is to emphasize the equal treatment of donors, who have all made a gesture toward the institution, and to offer a “global recognition”:

Ah yes, we constantly have the American Friends saying: tell us how many rooms you have. Because they translate it into plaques (laughs) and … we refuse to answer these questions, because we don't want to become a museum of plaques, basically, and we prefer to put a recognition element at the entrance of the museum, in a place of value, but then we are confronted with something that is more complicated, because when you have paid for the elevator, you have your name on the elevator, when you have paid for the large room, well … well … so visually it is very simple. We want to try to mark a global recognition and if we apply the financial scales, we are in … in something that is cruel and unfair, because it is not the same economic scale, because … so it is not simple.

The heads of these institutions thus went against the desires of some American donors, because it was against their values. They preferred to offer an alternative, more in line with their values and their vision of what a cultural institution is.

Adapting Practices: A Less Visible Trace

Recipient institutions in France also adapt the US practices around the visibility of the traces left by donors. American donors have a different approach to visibility than French institutions. The terms of application offered to American donors are thus adapted and redefined, as the head of development at one of the institutions explained to me:

They pay a lot of attention to this visibility and recognition … (…) Beyond the traditional visits or evenings in the museum, for the Americans, it is naming. Naming is crucial for them. But it’s getting a bit complicated, because it’s difficult to name the rooms, especially since we have a strict charter. And there we feel the weight of the cultural differences. They want big plaques, and their name in huge golden letters, whereas we only propose a small grey plaque in the corner, so we feel a disappointment on their part when they react. The visibility here is not staged in the same way. And we’re not allowed to name anything anywhere. So they always ask us for simulations, we send them the simulations so that they can see what it will look like.

This question of visibility appears to be an adjustment variable that is very much used. Some non-French American Friends associations also use it, as the head of one of the English associations explained to us: “No problem with that, we’re good with naming … although the plaques are not as big as in the U.S.”

This adaptation is carried out in a particularly consensual way while being careful in still satisfying the donors. The recipient institutions are indeed particularly careful not to offend the donors and are constantly trying to satisfy all parties—and all the more so when the donors are Americans, which requires the recipients to be particularly “diplomatic”:

Naming, that’s it … and likewise … something that could actually, that could have been very shocking (…), we try to frame things (…) to pay tribute to donors as it should be, while framing the way it's done, and respecting rules that are … (…) more precise, and that allow everyone to … to be satisfied.

The practices are gradually adopted and integrated, giving rise to new forms of naming, hybrid forms, halfway between American philanthropic practices and the context of the French cultural world. Leaving a trace that is the result of a negotiation between donors and recipients is also about building bridges and a “shared world.”